Meta

flirting

Princess and I are basically opposites in every way except one crucial one. Both being sluts, we were obsessed with the groupie lifestyle when we were teenagers. I suspect this was a bit of a chicken and egg situation. I don’t know if being a born slut made me seek this stuff out or if coming across it made me a slut but unlike chicken and eggs, you can combine both to enhance your enjoyment.

Sadly neither Princess or I grew up anywhere with access to being a proper groupie (although my first ever email address did have a reference to wanting to as I drunkenly allowed a friend to pick it for me and she clearly knew me well.)

Princess stuck to reading Pamela des Barres’ book along with listening to the music of those who had the pick of those notorious groupies. And clearly she had better taste in sexual fantasies than my teenage interests in tight trousered, big haired LA cock rockers because she neither regrets her early email addresses or her sexual awakenings.

These days I’d probably decline my chances with some of the men I dreamed of back then (debauchery means most haven’t aged well) but my original fantasy has never got old. I’d still get down on my knees in front of a line of horny men with hard cocks and suck their cocks in turn as they watched each other.

So when Princess and Sir went to see the Rolling Stones recently and she revelled in reliving her teenage feelings about Mick Jagger it made me wonder who my band line up would be now if I was creating my own supergroup of cocks to suck. Being indecisive I didn’t make any firm choices but there was one person I’d never say no to and would take any chance to let my inner groupie out to play with.

I have never been a fan of Led Zeppelin’s music but from an early age Robert Plant in leather trousers made me feel all kinds of things I didn’t completely understand. The infamous mud shark story left me with a guilty sense that I should be more disgusted than I was but definitely should have alerted me to my kinky interests sooner.

I think I’ve made my feelings about men feeling the need to speak to women in public clear before. So when years ago when standing perusing a selection of biscuits in a posh deli in central London I whipped my head round ready to use the equivalent of Choco-Liebniz as a weapon when I heard a man striking up conversation about cookies with me.

I could literally feel my mouth fall open as time stuttered into freeze frames and the biscuits hung in my hands like I had T-rex arms as I realised that man was in fact Robert Plant. Large as life and right in front of me discussing biscuits as my mind immediately ricocheted between blank incomprehension, disbelief, filthy thoughts and guilt over my (literally) naked objectification of him over decades. I may even have blushed.

Unlike many hell raisers, he wore living well extremely well and there was definitely that sense of sexual confidence I’d always imagined. I stuttered something back about the biscuits my mouth as dry as my knickers were suddenly wet and I almost willed him to leave me alone before I was so star struck I embarrassed myself.

I must be able to bullshit brilliantly about biscuits because he started asking me questions and advice on cake too. My mouth kept answering calmly and logically about marzipan while my mind screamed at me to just abandon all my life rules about consent and hang ups about initiating sex and just throw myself at him in public right now.

Each time I opened my mouth to reply to his conversation I had to double check I hadn’t just said ‘fuck me now’. I didn’t have the background of Continental foods in mind when I’d fantasised about sucking his cock, but sluts are nothing if not adaptable. I could fuck a long term obsession up against a freezer if it was my only chance and not care about the criminal record for public indecency to fulfil a lifetime ambition.

Being a slow learner and prone to overthinking I started to think as the conversation went on that actually he’d mistaken my taste for dressing all in black for being the shop staff instead of anything raunchier. And then I heard him say ‘shall I get us a coffee then?’ I don’t drink coffee but as I say, sluts will be flexible the situation calls for it.

Before I could accidentally sabotage myself, he ushered me to a table, paid for the cake and biscuits we’d been conversing about and ordered drinks. I attempted to look nonchalant, pretending as such things were everyday occurrences to me. I wondered if I should Google the nearest hotel where he could take me and fuck me senseless or if international rock stars with a reputation knew these things without my help. I did think fast enough to text the friend I was meeting to ask could we cancel, knowing fine rightly I’d fake my own death if that was the only way to excuse myself.

A cup of coffee and some cake appeared on the table and he sat down waiting for the waitress to bring the rest. I normally love flirting. Flirting is foreplay usually. But twenty plus years of fantasising is also foreplay and I needed little else. He started eating the cake and asking me about myself rather than prolonging any more chat about baked goods.

Robert Plant was quite definitely flirting with me and I have no idea what I told him. In my mind he was giving me orders to strip for him, not asking about my interests and hobbies. What do you say to this? Well, I enjoy going out and staying in and picturing your cock going in and out of my mouth until my eyeliner runs and I beg you to fuck me?

I was almost relieved when the waitress came over to give me a moment to breathe. I needed a moment to regroup my slutty superpowers. I waited for the second coffee to be set on the table so I could flirt properly. And waited. The pause was momentarily longer than expected and I looked around to hear him say ‘oh did we arrange to meet here?’

It was me guilty of mistaking someone for the shop staff this time as the well dressed young woman in front of use was clearly his girlfriend and if looks could kill, it wouldn’t be my awkward flirting that finished me off after all.

I introduced myself as politely as you can when you were shamelessly about to fuck someone’s partner as he started the kind of innocent explanation as to why we were having coffee that only ever sounds extremely incriminating. I’ve rarely felt as frustrated in my life sitting there as she whisked him away briskly making damned sure I didn’t have the chance to pass him my number and cursed that he of all people didn’t have an open relationship.

His girlfriend then insisted on ordering drinks to take out so they were standing just enough in my line of sight as to be both awkward and tantalising in equal measure. Plus I had to sit and drink the coffee I hate in order to cover my less than innocent intentions while kissing goodbye to the chance to turn my adolescent fantasies into very adult actions.

I watched them walk out just as my extremely prudish friend walked in. She hadn’t got my text and she certainly hadn’t got the interest in slutty men I did so I couldn’t even share my moment of almost groupie glory with her.

Instead I sat and nodded occasionally as she talked as I used my brush with reality to really enhance my fantasies for when I got home. I think the orgasm was definitely increased by the delayed gratification but also the seal of approval of my sluttiness by one who knows best…

I’m in the middle of trying to get a bit of work done to my flat. It’s one of those very practical things that feels very adult indeed. I’ve been comparing quotations and checking people’s insurance and credentials. And laughing at how much I’ve grown up in the last few years because the last time I hired anyone to work on my flat, the fact he was incredibly fuckable was just as much a concern as how well he could lay my floor.

But don’t worry, even my formerly slutty self didn’t let him lay me as well. I just spent two long days flirting outrageously with him and respecting the fact that temptation wasn’t going to make him cheat on his clearly adored girlfriend. In a world where so many men will fuck you if they think they can get away with it, his honesty and conscience even when his cock was whispering in his ear made him even hotter.

That wasn’t where I learned to flirt with workmen. I think I developed that skill in my teens when I started working in service industry jobs and learned that male manual workers are often the only men who understand the use of emotional labour and platonic flirting as social interaction.

There’s probably some class dynamics in there about being the ‘hired help’ around middle class women who are paying their bill, but either way I have always loved flirting with workmen. Partly I can’t help playing up that stereotype that girly girls like me know nothing about practical things like paint or shelving because it often allows me to flirt my way to discounts or use the element of surprise that I actually know much more than I’m letting on if needed.

But mainly a lot of manual workers are hot. There’s something about the physique of a man’s body that comes from the simple act of using for hard physical work in the course of a day that always appeals to me in a way a gym honed body has never done. I love that hint of muscle and promise of strength in a body that moves and builds things for a living.

And watching people do something they are skilled at is one of my greatest turn ons. It doesn’t particularly matter what the skill is but seeing someone do something they are so confident and skilled at that they make it look easy gives me that pinch in my stomach of attraction as well as stirring in my cunt. Doesn’t matter if it’s cooking a meal, re-roofing a house or tiling a floor really. The attraction is in the expertise.

So when a friend asked me if I would stay at their flat for a couple of days while they were having some work done to the windows I agreed readily. Rather than them take time off work to let the guy in and out all day, I was happy to supervise and hope I hadn’t set myself up to stare at builder’s bum and make tea all day for a man with dubious political views which is the flip side to spending time round men who work with their hands.

But the slutty gods were smiling on me because he was young, handsome and Hungarian. I’m usually not a fan of Aryan looking men but his wholesome ashy blonde hair and blue eyes were complimented by an underlying air of filth that made me much more interested in making him tea and discussing Central European politics than I’d usually be.

He really did work on those windows the first day although there was much more flirtation on the second day. But by the third when the work had moved indoors, things stepped up a notch. I thoroughly enjoyed seeing him leaning over the sills with his ass right in my line of view all morning.

This time he took his lunch break and as we moved round the fairly small kitchen he brushed against me a few times that way that could be accidental if the response wasn’t favourable. I brushed back as he insisted on helping me wash up the mugs and plates used before he went back to work.

I spent the afternoon very aware of that sensation of where he’d grazed against my ass with his crotch feeling the tingle linger in my cunt and distract me. He’d stayed out of my sight line since then and I wondered if he was feeling awkward. I decided bringing him a beer when he finished work was the way to go.

He thanked me and finished clearing up. I slunk back into the kitchen feeling foolish and horny for mistaking porn for real life and started putting the washing up away. Clattering plates I didn’t hear him come up behind me until he set the beer bottle on the counter and slid his hands round my hips pressing me against him.

I went soft against how hard he was and he brushed his hands increasingly firmly across my tits and hips before pulling the zip of my jeans down, letting his fingers explore my clit and then inside my cunt as I leaned back into him. He had strong hands to hold me but with fingers used to small skilful movements and he made me squirm as I came.

Only then did we end up facing each other and we kissed before it was my turn to run my hands over him, slipping the straps of his painters overalls down to reveal that he wasn’t wearing any underwear and his cock was right there for me to play with.

I pulled the overalls right down and slipped his cock into my mouth. I was right that he was the right kind of filthy. He was shaved smooth and scented with just enough hard work and sweat to make me really want to suck on his balls too. I alternated between cock and balls with my mouth until he pushed his dick further into my mouth.

I balanced myself by cupping my hand under his balls as I sucked his cock and he reached down and cupped my fingers further back pressing against his asshole. I paused and he widened his stance so I knew he wanted my finger inside him. I put my fingers on top his cock and drew them down it as I sucked them slick and then slipped one into his ass.

He stiffened against and then opened up so my finger was able to slide in and out in time to my mouth on his cock, literally sucking and fucking him at the same time staring up at his face from my knees. His eyes were closed and he was only moving in synch with my actions almost like he was in trance.

Suddenly he startled forward grabbing my shoulders so my finger pressed inside his ass and he came so hard into my mouth I couldn’t swallow it all running down my chin and making his cock slip out of my mouth as he was still coming. It was dripping off his cock and my face and onto the floor as he was still gripping my shoulders.

He let go and I stood up to kiss him still covered in his come. I pulled my jeans up and he stepped back, pulling his overalls off completely so he was naked from the waist down and taking a cloth he got down on his hands and knees, back to me with his just fucked arsehole visible and slowly and deliberately mopped up his own come as I watched.

Still on the floor, he tossed the cloth in the sink and pulled my jeans back down and buried his tongue in my cunt with his cock in his hand. We both came again and only just had time to get dressed and composed again before my friend arrived home with more beers to thank us both with.

I have no idea what we sat and talked about because both my mind and cunt were still completely distracted. I’m not sure I’ll ever look at a pair of painters overalls again the same way….

In my spare time I have a slightly odd hobby in that I absolutely love advice columns. I subscribe to some straight to my inbox, catch some up weekly and have others I like to binge read when I’m ill in bed. I equally enjoy giving advice and reading other people’s especially on subjects I know nothing about. It’s like people watching while I’m housebound and keeps my all girls school mentality of gossip in check.

But sometimes it also reminds me just how unconventional I really am. Each time for example I read about women being upset their husbands ever masturbate, I am reminded that making my Master his own curated porn clips with his wife for his birthday is unusual. Seeing people fume and fizz with jealousy because their partner has a close opposite sex friend baffles me because I don’t understand jealousy.

And I am constantly wide eye emoji look as to how many people can’t cope with finding out their partner has a sexual past of any kind. Grown adults devastated that they aren’t the first person to touch their boyfriend’s dick or that their girlfriend once had sex with someone she hadn’t been on six dates and decided on their future dog’s name with. They genuinely seem aghast and upset that their current squeeze isn’t box fresh for them.

I’ve worked bloody hard to create a bubble where people don’t judge my sexual past anymore that I’ve forgotten just how shockable a lot of people are by anything that deviates from the norm to them. But I used to be surrounded by this day to day and it made me miserable. It was clearly designed to shame me out of my slutty ways and make me behave better. And it did not work.

It simply made me create a different kind of bubble where I had two lives. Nice respectable me who discussed the merits of different online dating sites as if hunting for someone to eventually move in with and utterly slutty me who once decided to set myself a challenge to see if I could fuck a different man every day for three months. No particular point to prove, just the opposite of abstaining from something for a set period of time. Slutty Season rather than Sober October I guess?

Luckily I was young and living and working in Central London and was quite the party girl with time to spare so a challenge like that made it feel like the world was at my feet more than fishing in a small pond. The trick was not being too obvious about it so that my friends and flatmates wouldn’t spot it.

It made me bolder in many ways. I went to pubs on my own and scanned the bar to see who I felt like fucking. I discovered that men are so unused to women buying them a drink that you can have all kinds of fun with them after that. Yet I also played up to all kinds of sexual stereotypes shamefully too and asked men in supermarkets to help me with things on high shelves as a good way to offer to thank them with a drink.

I had a friend who ran gallery events filled with hot young men who couldn’t decide if they were networking or peacocking and for cash in hand and the kind of cheap white wine you get at openings I offered to help run the cloakroom or man the meet and greet and hand out guides. Both were the perfect excuse to flirt and make eyes and then slip my number into their coat pocket or programme for them to discover later.

I left business cards with waiters as I tipped or I ‘forgot’ my coat on several occasions when with friends to go back into cafes and give out my number. I became much more tolerant of those charity muggers outside Tube stations, letting them give me their spiel about blind homeless donkeys in order to proposition them in return. I got round to doing small odd jobs and shopping trips that involved builders merchants and other predominantly male stores.

I took up a friend’s husband’s offer to teach me to play pool in a working men’s club in Pimlico and took full advantage of being the only woman there. I hung out in bookshops asking questions about things I’d studied at university as a way to strike up conversation with hipster booksellers who thought they’d finally found a woman who really wanted to read Murakami.

I dragged myself out to to promotional events in Shoreditch dive bars and befriended bouncers and barmen as well as allowing men to tell me all about their ‘big idea’. I used Guardian Soulmates which is those days was in print in the Saturday Guide and involved having to phone voicemail as a precursor to online dating. I talked to men on the Tube and in the street and queues. And I carried on with my normal day to day life in my local pub and encountering men at work and through people I knew.

In the process I got to really know London in a way that made it feel like home for me that most imports to the city never manage and is probably why I still live here fifteen years later. I have no idea how many phone numbers I accumulated in those three months but it was literally hundreds. I feel like I filled my Nokia 3310 address book to bursting point but that might be nostalgic hyperbole.

I soon found that for roughly every five men I engaged with I got one fuck. I had to make a special trip to go to Boots for a Meal Deal for lunch from work at least once a week to buy condoms by the twelve pack. I turned men down who wanted to date and I set more geographical limitations than sexual ones. I fucked in lot of pub toilets, alleyways and stockrooms.

And despite all that work, I almost didn’t make my target. A couple of flaky dates, a few guys who seemed like bad news and a couple of occasions I couldn’t shake friends or work off to be free to fuck left me three men short on my last day. I debated giving my Lenten exemption of Sundays not counting to extend the deadline, but that felt like cheating.

My bubble of pure London sluttery never got burst in those three months by friends or flatmates and years later I never brought that past in the present and told people that I once fucked nearly a hundred people in three months just to see if I could. I knew I’d never live that number down.

But next Thursday I will tell you how I hit my target like the over achiever I am…

My Master was feeling sociable over the long weekend inviting me round for both drinking and plenty of fucking. I’m not sure if he really needed to send Princess to the shop for mixers when I got there or if he was being cunning.

But it did give us the perfect opportunity to welcome her back by finding me on my knees with his cock in my mouth. She was a little bit jealous until our impromptu threesome later that night where she got to swallow Sir’s come before their friend came to join us for drinks.

The three of us went to Pride in July and it was one of my favourite days of the summer. As well as hanging out together we met up with a friend of my Master and his date for the day who was great fun and seemed to very much enjoy Sir’s company. So I wasn’t surprised when he turned out to be the friend my Master had invited round to join us for drinks.

We had fun getting drunk and silly before he went off to meet some friends for a night at the Two Brewers. Princess and I poured more drinks while my Master showed him out and it’s just as well we know how to entertain ourselves the two of us because Sir was gone for quite some time.

Princess and I would have been disappointed if he’d come back and hadn’t told us that there’d been kissing but we were thrilled and more than a little turned on when he told us that the kissing had turned into the friend wanting a proper taste and sucking Sir’s cock in the communal hallway outside their flat.

We spent the rest of the night trying to persuade him to go round to his friend’s the next day and fuck. Surprisingly he didn’t take his wife and submissive up on the encouragement to fuck another man even if he did agree with us that it was impressively slutty for him to have got his cock sucked by three different people in the space of two hours…

I think Princess is rubbing off on me. Teaching me about the joys of fucking women has not only made the last few months incredibly fun but it also seems to be making me more aware of women.

My Master wanted me to take Princess out on Saturday night to a lesbian bar and show her off but I couldn’t find anywhere that wasn’t a basement in Dalston where it was probably too dimly lit to show much off.

He does like the idea of us attracting some attention while out and about and he does have a good reputation when it comes to introducing me to women so I might learn to like attracting attention to me and Princess in public.

While I was plotting when and where we could do this, I had to get on with the day to day of life which being me involved trialling a new hairdresser and ending up with a style my best friend described as ‘so fucking gay.’ (Which is a compliment from a butch with good hair.)

And then also being me, there was a trip to the hospital for a test. I’m an old hand at these things so it was all very straightforward until they mentioned I needed to take my piercings out. I explained I’d have difficulty and the nurse went off to check leaving me with her colleague.

Who happened to be a very hot soft butch who definitely noticed my hair and didn’t read me as completely straight which is new for me. It didn’t help that because of the gloves she was using we were discussing latex within a few seconds of meeting.

But that was totally fine until the other nurse returned to double check the metal of my nipple piercings and I also had to confess to the clit piercing too. The cute butch didn’t say anything but as she had my arm in her hands at the time, I felt her try not to laugh too much.

She proceeded to carry on dealing with preparing my veins for an injection and the conversation was flirtier than I’d expect over saline and sticky tape. Not the first time a queer woman has flirted with me, but the first time they’ve also read me as queer and it felt fun but odd, like I was letting a haircut speak for me.

Yet it was also fun and lighthearted and then she had to use a longer cable or tube than expected and walk behind me carrying so it didn’t touch the floor and without thinking I said ‘I feel like a puppy being walked’ and as soon as I said it, there was that tension of realising you are both thinking kinky things and the tone has changed.

So I’m supposed to be going on a date tomorrow night and I’m conflicted about it for several reasons.

It came about unexpectedly when a guy I knew through work and I were out drinking and he kissed me. I liked the attention and I liked the kiss more than I expected, but I also felt cautious about the whole thing.

I belong to my Master and his ownership of me is literally marked on my body with the modification of my clit piercing. I am reminded of it repeatedly throughout the day that way but never more so than when another man is interested in me.

I don’t want to do anything to jeopardise that ownership nor my relationship with Princess but I do tend to respond to the attention of men. Prior to meeting my Master, I have never really done relationships of any length or commitment. I was more the fuck them and move on type in fact.

I am much more practised in the art of attracting men in both public and private settings than than keeping their interest. Most of my sexual encounters could be measured in evenings or maybe weeks and a lot of the allure was the chase rather than the connection per se.

It still comes relatively naturally to me to flirt and attract attention from the opposite sex. Partly through habit but also because the changes my Master has made to my body as Candi certainly catch men’s eye and Princess has encouraged me to be more of a show off.

I felt oddly guilty after the guy kissed me as if I was sharing something with him that was for my Master and Princess and it only calmed when my Master made it clear that he rather liked the idea of showing me off in person to another man and gave me orders if I went on the date.

But I’m still not sure. Part of me relishes the idea of showing off each slutty kinky little change my Master has made me as someone discovers my new waist, my pierced nipples or my changed stretched cunt.

And part of me likes that no one else has seen those things in person or touched them about from my Master and Princess. After years of exhibitionism through casual sex, I like the secrets I have from the outside world with only two other people and I’m not sure I’m ready to show those off to anyone else.

My best friend is brilliant. She’s a gorgeous butch dyke with the sharpest hair cut and sense of humour I know. And she’s the most accepting person I know without straying over into enabling or ignoring my mistakes.

She’d been hoping since we met that I might actually be queer or amenable to experimentation and while I’m sure she was the one who hoped to convince me to cunt, she admired my Master for getting me to try it out.

So you can imagine how I pleased I was when she met Princess and liked her. But what most people won’t be able to imagine is how pleased I was when she wanted to both fuck Princess and be her friend.

In my friendships and relationships with the people I care most about I like to share the things that make me happy. I don’t believe in possessiveness or exclusion. Essentially I am always happy to offer to share my playthings with people who appreciate and respect the invite rather than keep them to myself.

It works very well for me that my Master likes to share Princess with me and me with both other men and the readers of this blog or Clips 4 Sale. A huge attraction to him was that he wasn’t looking for another girlfriend but a submissive and I love seeing him and Princess together as a couple.

I think that idea is quite challenging for most people who’ve been taught monogamy is the only way to have a relationship or that three’s a crowd. And even the ones who are more used to the idea of open relationship might not extend that to friendships too.

But I love the idea of my best friend flirting with Princess and I love the idea of Princess responding. She looks so innocent around the more experienced more dominant dyke. Yet the first time they met, Princess rendered my friend speechless and blushing by mentioning out of the blue how she liked to masturbate to videos of me fucking myself with candles.

So they are well matched to play fantastically flirtatious games together. I have no fear of falling out favour with either of them and I doubt my Master is anything more than entertained by the whole idea. He certainly liked hearing how Princess kissed my friend hello on the cheek the other day seconds after being face first in my cunt.

I’m certainly intrigued to see where a girls’ night in (or out) goes in the next few months…